


Can't Stop (Thinking About You)

by orphan_account



Series: Musical 365 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sorta kinda, Sorta kinda Sherlock POV, and he's actually not directly IN it until the end technically?, i guess, idk - Freeform, more sucky tags, you don't get into John's head very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's mind is consumed by a certain blogger. He lies in his room and paces as his mind races through John, brain looping one clip of him after another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Stop (Thinking About You)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes! I'm sorry! Another Maroon 5-inspired drabble. Apologies, but blame the ipod shuffling function, sorry not me hhaha.  
> Enjoy!  
> Edit: moved up to Teen after a second thought.

 Sherlock's mind is consumed by a certain blogger. He lies in his room and paces as his mind races through John, brain looping one clip of him after another. One memory melts into the next and Sherlock falls backwards onto his bed. Each image flashes by so often Sherlock's seeing things that weren't originally there, exaggerating certain details: John's pupils are blown wide here, he licks his lips and looks up at Sherlock through lashes, leans in too close, his breath tic-

Sherlock sleeps even less than usual now. His mind betrays him and conjures improbable- _impossible_ situations and scenarios. He tries hard to counter these fantasies in his many waking hours: tells himself that the tea John makes him means nothing, that his uncharacteristic lack of consideration for personal space with Sherlock is because he's given up on carving out his own spot in the clutter. John adjusting Sherlock's legs so they sit on his lap is really only because he wants to sit on the couch, don't be ridiculous.

He hasn't had a case in days, but he can't seem to care. His mind is running circles around everything John. It's a wonderful distraction (if not annoying), if he's completely honest. But the fact that his entire mind has been turned on his head seems to have slid under John's radar of Important Things to Bring Up, which, given John's need to discuss the most trivial things, is troubling. 

John shifts underneath his legs and Sherlock stands abruptly and retreats to his room. John doesn't seem to notice, and Sherlock berates himself for the passing expectation of John to follow him there like everywhere else.

!!

 

John is tangled in coffee colored sheets, grinning up at Sherlock with laughter playing in his eyes. His lips are just slightly swollen, red. The sight makes Sherlock ache and he trails fingers down John's soft stomach and the outside of his thigh. His hand swoops inwards and Sherlock jerks awake, feeling sticky and clinging to a pillow. He lets out a long groan and rolls off his bed and stumbles to the bathroom. His head is swimming with the dream John, reality melting into some alternate version.

He closes the door too loud, and John's at the bathroom door in record time, knocking tentatively and calling for Sherlock, asking if he's all right. Sherlock growls a response, and John wavers by the clouded glass, his silhouette's hand hovers by the doorknob. Sherlock wishes he'd go ahead and open in it, he blames the hope on his still slumbering mind.

 

!!

 

John brings someone home- another girl, slight, pretty enough, dark hair, taller than John; can't be bothered to remember her name, she's seeing someone anyway- and Sherlock doesn't think about what it would be like to have that warm blue gaze on him like _that._

Sherlock scurries off to his room and imagines he does. 

He tickles himself down his ribs once before going over them a again with a firmer touch. He keeps a steady pressure and pulls his hand back up over his clothed chest, around his neck. He drags a hand through his hair and tugs. If he imagines the pads of his fingers are sun-kissed, not his, and a little smaller it's no one's business but his own. 

He shuts his eyes and forces his hands away from himself, rolls onto his side and thinks. 

Sometimes he contemplates telling John, but the thought is quickly ushered away. It would only make things messy to show just how far John has invaded his brain. He supposes.

 

!!

 

Sherlock thinks that John knows. John's staring at him, appraising him. He looks as though he's going to say something, but doesn't.

Sherlock does.

“Finally. Have you actually noticed, John? That you've taken over my mind? Quite a feat, that, I must admit.” Sherlock stands, each word letting a little piece of John out of his cluttered head. “You've figured out that you infiltrate my very few hours of sleep- very rude, actually- and-”

“You're an oblivious wanker, aren't you?” 

Sherlock whirls on John and manages to see a glimpse of the smirk on John's lips before they're crushed against his own.

**Author's Note:**

> UH OH NO EXCUSE  
> AGAIN  
> WILL YOU FORGIVE ME  
> Also I am very busy all day today and have to go to bed rn which is why this is 221% unedited and generally bad. Tomorrow might be better because the song is called Between Sheets haha  
> Night!


End file.
